Benediction
by Vialana
Summary: How easy is it to kill a man? Are there truly such things as justifiable reasons?


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter featured in this story.**

_I thought I owed it to myself to finally write a Severus-centric story. He's definitely one of the more interesting characters in the HPverse. Also written because, as much as I disliked the book, HBP raised more questions than it attempted to answer — especially about Severus and Draco. _

_Warnings: HBP spoilers._

**Benediction**

"Rushing back to your master then, Severus?"

I don't pause in my packing. The equipment I handle is quite delicate and beady-eyed rodents aren't worth a tenth of the galleons I paid for some of these devices.

He stands in the doorway to my laboratory, blocking the light from the staircase. I had to fumble around for the latch on my cabinet, but I'd done this so many times in the dark that I barely pause in my motions. Staring at this hidden nook in the wall, I allow myself to feel pride — just as I do every time I reveal it to myself. Unlocking the camouflaged door behind the potions cabinet, I see my most prized works. Most of the potions stored here have no names, I am the only person who knows what all of the vials contain. A number of the potions are from rare books but are even more rarely made. Some are illegal and most of them should be. My mother invented quite a few and I have improved upon some of her recipes. Others are the results of twenty-five years worth of experimentation. All are unlabelled.

I grab two of the potions and lock the store away again. As I push the main cabinet back into place, I take four more potions, assured in the fact that there will be a generous store of others that I might need at my destination.

He's moved to stand by my work-bench, toying with a glass dish. His eyes glitter with malice and I know he's doing it just to piss me off. Pathetic little man. I snatch the dish back without so much as glancing at him and place it in the small trunk I'll be taking with me. I add a few more cushioning charms before packing in the potions I took. Everything in the trunk is charmed to be unbreakable, but too much jostling around could have negative effects on the potions.

My lab is clean once more, completely uncluttered, save for my unwanted guest.

Wormtail sneers at my back (working with children has heightened my sixth sense about such expressions) hating to be ignored — which was precisely why I do it. The man has always hated being overlooked, ever since childhood. It makes him especially vindictive. Also quite snivelling.

"One would start to wonder," the rat continued preventing me from leaving, "just where exactly your loyalties lie, jumping to the mere sound of Dumbledore's voice like you are."

The man is an idiot. It's no wonder the Dark Lord shafted him off onto me. Punishment for delaying my return to his ranks I suppose. I don't even bother replying to the statement and almost run Wormtail down as I make my way upstairs to the fireplace.

Just like his despicable friends back in school, he's desperate to see me lose my cool. Wormtail tries one more jab as I reach for the floo powder on the mantelpiece.

"I'm sure the Dark Lord would be very interested to see how quickly you jump to Dumbledore's call, especially seeing how the man's scheduled to die this year."

I finally turn and glare at the disgusting waste of space attempting to look smug as he fouls up my living room. I cannot take his idiocy any longer without cutting his legs out from under him in retaliation. I only wish I could get away with doing that literally.

"If you're too stupid to see that blowing my cover at such an inopportune time would result in the old man being far too suspicious of me early enough to halt the Dark Lord's master plan for this year, then I won't even bother point out the _further_ subtleties of my actions tonight."

As usual, the man has no reply and I leave him flabbergasted in the middle of my living room. I'll have to have the entire house disinfected when he leaves.

Minerva is there to greet me by the fireplace in the staffroom — the only place apart from the Headmaster's office that has total two-way floo access in the school.

"I'm so glad you're here Severus," is all she says as she gestures for me to follow. Had this been a normal meeting, she would have tried to greet me with far more familiarity, despite her knowing I would back away from the actions. She would just smile patiently. It was like a ritual. I almost feel sad being bereft of it this time.

We rush through the halls to the infirmary. Despite myself, my heart beats faster and my footsteps quicken. I did not know it was this serious. Well, I suppose I did intellectually, but Poppy had said it hadn't progressed far enough for hospitalisation.

"Severus." Poppy smiles in relief when we enter. I barely manage a nod for her before turning my attention to the man in the bed she stood over.

"Severus, my boy." Despite everything, the old man could still smile.

"Albus." I shoot a look at Poppy. "His vitals?"

"Stable, but weak. I don't recognise the poison. It looks like a fever, but there are too many discrepancies. I've tried sweating it out, but it's secreted itself in his adrenal gland. Blood pressure is low and he's reported numbness in extremities. He collapsed on the way here. There's also a strange discoloration to his eyes and tongue."

I nod and go to work, mentally flicking through descriptions of every poison I'd ever heard of. Some matched, but a basic purgative would have worked to expel those. Poppy would have tried that the first time she even heard about his illness. I check Albus' eyes and something about the discolouration clicks in the back of my mind. I check his tongue then study his skin, tracing my fingers over the vein of his wrist and check his fingernails to be completely certain.

"Oh, Albus, what have you done?" I whisper, staring at him in horror as I realise exactly what ails him.

"I've taken the first step, my boy," he smiles.

I turn my gaze away, going through the small store of potions I took with me. I know I can heal him, but it will cost him far more than I ever wanted. Beyond that … Now I know why the Dark Lord wants him dead. And I know that, whatever action I take at the end of this year — whatever side I stand on — Albus Dumbledore will die.

"I'm sorry, Albus." I lean down to administer the potion.

"I know you are, my boy." He knows I am not talking about what had happened to him.

"This will be painful," I tell him, but all he does is smile.

* * *

Not even a near-death experience could keep Albus Dumbledore down indefinitely. After only a week, he is back in his office, humming away and idly snacking on his infernal sweets. 

"Lemon drop?" he offers, as he always does, when I enter.

"No thank you, Albus." I take a seat, which I think surprises him. I am rarely in his office without a summons for longer than a few minutes. He puts the paperwork he was going through to the side and places his folded hands on his desk.

"What can I help you with, my boy?"

I hesitate. I'd had to make some very unpleasant choices in my life before, but there was something very different about this time. Albus is just watching me patiently, knowing that whatever I have to say is important and hard to deal with, but he cannot possibly know the depth of the effect this situation is having on me.

I look at the man who'd likely saved my life fifteen years ago and realise something very profound.

Albus Dumbledore is human.

Age lines his eyes, his irises are faded and pale. Worry-lines crease his forehead while laugh-lines surround his mouth. He is old and all the books in the world cannot express how completely he lived. He loves life with all his heart and every death he hears about tears away a part of his soul. His hands shake, one withered with a sickness that will never fade. His golden aura has dimmed and the wise sharpness to his appearance has dulled.

Albus Dumbledore is an old man, and I owe my life to him.

"I was contacted a few weeks ago by Narcissa Malfoy," I begin, closing my eyes as Albus leans forward curiously. "Draco has been inducted as a Death Eater."

Shadows creep over his face as he hears this. I can almost see the blood leaking from his chest. Few things in these past two years have affected him badly enough to cause suchpain. Cedric Diggory's death was one. Sirius Black's was another. Draco Malfoy wasn't dead, but considering the situation, he might as well have been.

"I had hoped this day would not ever come to pass," Albus whispers.

"As did I." I was not a man to get attached to others, but perhaps the years I have spent as a teacher have allowed me to be slightly more sympathetic to others — children and innocents at least, despicable and irritating though they might be at times. I doubt that I would describe my feelings for my Slytherins as 'fond', but there was _some_ element of affection. And Draco Malfoy was one of the few students who, while exceptionally grating quite often, had grabbed my attention. I was obviously not the only one who had high hopes for the boy.

"How did his mother take it?" Albus draws my attention back outside myself.

I shake my head, recalling the hysterical mess the normally poised and cool woman had been. "Very badly. She and Bellatrix visited to tell me about it — both with quite differing opinions on the matter. Bellatrix was pleased, to say the least. But I'd never seen Narcissa like that."

"Never underestimate the love a mother has for her children."

I look away. "Yes, of course." I try not to think about Albus' comment more than necessary.

"Mrs. Malfoy is not marked herself, is she?"

"No, though obviously she would be implicated simply through her sister and husband's ties to the Dark Lord." I sigh, trying not to feel too much about the situation, but I am already far too emotionally involved in the situation to try and extricate myself now. "Narcissa has been falling apart since Lucius' incarceration. Both the Malfoy and Black names have been dragged through the mud, her pride has been shattered, her beliefs precariously balanced; Draco is all she has left, and he has betrayed her so soon after her husband has, in the exact same way. Yet she cannot help but still love them both."

"Severus …" Albus is staring at me and I realise that my explanation has gotten away from me. I straighten in my seat and try to push everything back inside, but it's too late, and this is _Albus_ I'm with. Since that night, I've had moments of such hopelessness that I feel like crying. I experience such a moment now.

"Everything's such a mess," I exclaim, waving one had about as I cradle my head in the other, slumping back down in the comfortable seat. "Narcissa's an emotional wreak and no one's doing anything to help. Bellatrix is just baiting her, insane enough not to see how much her sister needs her. Lucius was stupid enough to get caught and get locked away. Diving into the situation like that without a care about his wife or child. With a role-model like that, it's no wonder Draco doesn't even comprehend the subtleties of human interaction and affection. Narcissa loves him, he knows it, but he doesn't seem to actually understand what that means. He's so insistent about upholding the family honour that he can't see how much of a fool Lucius really was, or how much his actions are hurting his mother. I know the boy can be an idiot at times, but I didn't think he was this blind. Hasn't he grown up at all? Honestly, it's times like this I wish——"

I cut myself off, not wanting to complete that sentence aloud. Ever. I can't believe I came so close to revealing such a personal opinion. So close to the heart that most of the time I couldn't even _think_ it to myself. This situation isn't about me.

Albus is looking at me as though he knows exactly what I didn't say. My hand is digging into the arm of the chair, splinters of wood scratching at the soft skin beneath my fingernails.

"I wish things were different," I say coolly, composing myself again.

"As do I, my boy." Albus shakes his head and sighs. "Unfortunately we must play with the cards fate has dealt us. Do you think there is anything we can do to help the boy?"

My voice completely fails me as he stares at me so earnestly. I know what my Slytherins say about Albus: eccentric muggle-loving Gryffindor. They always miss a few adjectives in describing him and add a few which are unworthy. Like 'biased'. He has no particular fondness for Draco, no reason to help the boy other than he _can_. I wish that this particular situation could be as easily solved as mine was, but I know it cannot be.

I shake my head in lieu of replying. My chest is tight and I cannot find words to explain what I truly wanted to tell him tonight. It is as though saying it aloud will make it come to pass.

"Severus." I make a mistake in looking up. He's so … compassionate. It's quite overwhelming and very unwanted. I don't want to do this. Irrationally, I have an urge to run to my room and hide until everything has passed — or never comes about.

But he deserves to know.

"Draco's initiation is not complete."

"Oh?"

I still can't meet his eyes, so I stare down at my hands. I have to wrench them away from the arms of the chair before I break it completely.

"Every new recruit must prove themselves worthy. Draco has been asked to kill someone of extreme importance. It is a task he will fail, despite how much he tries. I think even deep down he knows it. The boy may be many things, but a murderer he is not."

"I do believe that." I risk looking up. Albus has his eyes closed, pain deepening the lines of his face further. My hand twitches in his direction, but I abort the attempt to comfort him, knowing it would do little good, though he would appreciate the sentiment.

"Narcissa has stumbled upon the truth of this particular assignment. Draco is intended to fail. The Dark Lord is punishing Lucius for being captured. Draco will fail, and if he is not killed while attempting murder, the Dark Lord will surely take his life." I turn away, making a frustrated noise, trying not to let the situation overwhelm me again. "Draco is, of course, absurdly confident that he will complete his initiation and become one of the Dark Lord's favoured servants."

"Mrs. Malfoy asked something of you then?"

"Yes. An Unbreakable Vow."

I should be pleased to see Albus so shocked. It's rare to find something that will startle him enough that he cannot reply. But the implication in this situation has upset him.

"Oh, my dear boy," his voice almost breaks and the grief thickening his voice makes my stomach lurch. "I know you never wanted——"

"What I want and what is necessary have rarely been the same," I cut in, not wanting to feel any regret. It was done; I would have to deal with the consequences of my actions, just as I always have. "It was the best option. Draco will fail and I will kill his target. The Dark Lord will be furious with us both. One death, not three — or possibly more — and this way I can keep the boy safe."

"And are you so completely certain young Malfoy will fail?"

"You would want him to become a murderer and completely forfeit his innocence?"

"Of course not Severus, but you know as well as I that the young man can be exceptionally determined and quite vicious."

"He will not be able to kill his target."

"And how … oh. It's Harry, isn't it?" He seems almost resigned to the idea.

The Potter-Malfoy rivalry has always been something of great concern and disappointment to Albus. I'd always had high hopes for Draco and I know Albus could see the same qualities in the boy that I did. But when he was around Potter, it was like a complete regression. Draco's animosity baffles me at times. It's irrational and petty and beyond the behaviour of a Malfoy, something he knows quite well, but yet he still continues.

It's almost like, but at the same time _nothing_ like, my rivalry with Potter and Black. I have to question how much influence Potter's mere presence has affected Draco's decision to so blindly follow the Dark Lord. The boy is usually far more intelligent than that.

But Potter isn't the issue here.

"No," I tell Albus, and he again looks startled. No doubt he was recalling the furious spats between the two boys over the past years also. I swallow nervously, not wanting to tell him this. How could I possibly tell him this? I don't want it to be true.

"No?" he queries, seeing my distress.

"Albus," I begin slowly, trying to draw this out as long as I possibly can. "Draco's target is … i-is you."

He blinks and leans back in his seat, surprised, but not upset. "Oh," he says. "Well, that makes sense, and I can't really say I wasn't expecting it."

"W-what?" I have an emotional breakdown and he acts like he was beaten at a friendly game of chess or something. 'Oh well, best two-out-of-three?' The man is insufferable!

He smiles, as though reading my mind. I check my mental barriers to make sure that isn't actually the case. "Severus, I'm an old man," he explains.

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed."

He chuckles at my snappish tone and I feel a sharp pang, knowing that I would not hear that laughter at all soon enough.

"My boy, you can be far too serious sometimes."

I'm suddenly furious about his blasé attitude. "And why shouldn't I be?" I yell, standing up abruptly and slamming my hands on his desk. "I'm going to _kill_ you Albus!"

I freeze at the words that escape my mouth. I'd talked around it and he knew what was going to happen as well as I, but to actually say it …

"Oh, god, I'm going to kill you."

I collapse to my knees, one arm still absurdly hanging on the desk, the other hovering in the air somewhere between my mouth and stomach. My heart's pounding and my stomach is churning and I think I'm about to cry.

"Severus."

A wrinkled hand touches my cheek and draws my chin up so my gaze meets concerned blue eyes. Albus is sitting in the seat I'd just vacated, closely comforting. I shake my head away from his touch, like a petulant child.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to," I whisper. I try not to think of what I must look like, or that I cannot raise my voice any higher for what it might sound like.

"Severus, it's all right."

"No, it's really not, but I'm going to do it anyway. I'm going to kill you, so that Draco doesn't have to, so that he has a chance of survival. I know …" I stop here, reaching a shaking hand to my eyes and taking a breath. "I know you wouldn't have wanted him to die — you never want anyone to die. And I know you'd never want anyone, even Draco Malfoy, to become a murderer. I know you'd sacrifice your life for his in a heartbeat — god, I'd do it too if I thought it change anything, please believe that. Please believe that I'm doing the right thing, Albus." I clutch at his hands, sitting on his lap, staring, pleading. I think I might be crying. "Tell me it's the right thing."

Albus removes one of his hands from my grasp to place it upon my head. He smiles at me, and I see the same man that saved me fifteen years ago.

"Severus," he says in that voice like calm ocean waves, "I want you to know that I have never been more proud of you than I am at this moment."

"Albus …" I can only stare at him.

He smiles again, a natural expression on his face. "Now, why don't you help an old man to his feet? I really must finish this dratted paperwork before Poppy comes along and sends me off to bed again."

I get to my feet, surreptitiously wiping a sleeve over my face, and hold out my hand for him.

"Those potions I gave you will have quite a few side-effects," I tell him, trying to bring the tone of the conversation back to our professional norm. "Drowsiness is one, and sleep is necessary to heal as much as you can." My eyes wander to his hand again.

"Of course, of course," he nods, moving back around to the other side of the desk. He sets his paperwork back in front of him.

"Don't overexert yourself," I warn him.

"Severus, you're a worse mother-hen than Poppy is."

I sniff disdainfully at the idea. "Just be careful."

"Of course, Severus."

I nod, and turn towards the door, feeling quite awkward about the entire situation. I'll have to find something to distract myself with, but Albus calls me back before I can leave his office.

"Oh, Severus, I can't believe I almost forgot to tell you about the new professor."

I struggle not to roll my eyes. Of course. The infamous curse of the Defence Professor. I wonder who the poor sod will be this year.

"I've invited Professor Slugworth to come back and teach for this year. He hasn't exactly accepted, but I'm sure I'll be able to find some way to persuade him."

"Slugworth?" I frown. "But he was the _Potions_ teacher before me. Does he have any experience in Defence?"

"Well I'm sure he must have some experience," Albus commented. "In times like these it's hard to find someone who doesn't have some experience in dealing with dark matters."

"And you're entrusting the minds and lives of young children to someone whose level of competence in Defence Against the Dark Arts is unknown?"

Albus blinked. "Oh, of course not. Professor Slugworth will be teaching Potions. I expect he's rather dismal at Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Potions?"

Albus smiles at my confusion. "Yes, Potions. I was rather hoping _you_ would accept the position of Defence teacher for this year Severus."

"I …" The first year I haven't actively sought the position, and he gives it to me?

"You would make a brilliant Defence teacher Severus; it was unfortunate that I could never ask you before this year."

The curse. The Vow. Everything truly was a mess this year.

"I would be honoured to take the position," I tell him sincerely.

"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you shine, Severus."

I glare at the thought and Albus chuckles again.

I turn to leave again as Albus returns to his paperwork and I hear him whisper, "Do take care of young Draco, Severus."

"I will," I promise, absolutely refusing to fail in that duty.

"I can always count on you, Severus."

I don't look back at him as I leave his office.


End file.
